


Healing Hands

by DizzyDrea



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Healing, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-03
Updated: 2012-05-03
Packaged: 2017-11-04 18:26:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/396858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyDrea/pseuds/DizzyDrea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Monroe actually thinks it might have been more convenient to have uncovered some secret <i>blutbad</i> healing ability, because it's usually Nick in this position. Not that the baby Grimm isn't resilient, but he's only human and it takes a while for him to recover from injuries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Healing Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently, I can't resist certain prompts on the Grimm Kink Meme. [This prompt](http://grimm-kink.dreamwidth.org/1735.html?thread=1561799#cmt1561799) inspired this story.
> 
> Originally posted on the Grimm Kink Meme.
> 
> Disclaimer: Grimm is the property of NBC, Universal Television, GK Productions, Hazy Mills Productions, Open 4 Business Productions LLC and a lot of other people who aren’t me. I am doing this for fun and for practice. Mostly for fun.

~o~

Monroe has felt worse. He's felt better, of course, but compared to his wilder days, this isn't bad. The broken wrist will make working on clocks difficult for the next few weeks, but since wesen heal fast, he's not too worried. And while the cuts and scrapes sting, they'll fade in a matter of days.

It's the gash in his side that's most worrying. Deep tissue wounds like this make breathing a new experience in pain. The cracked ribs don't help, either, but he figures it's what he gets for going up against a bunch of _skalenzahne_ bent on taking his head off. 

Well, not true. They were bent on taking Nick Burkhardt's head off. Monroe's just the lucky one that got in the way. Who knew the _skalenzahne_ were so interested in restarting the Löwen Games?

At any rate, he finds himself beaten and bruised, sitting in the baby Grimm's truck, headed back toward civilization and, hopefully, some serious painkillers.

"You okay there, Monroe?" Nick asks.

"Just peachy," Monroe snarks back, because really? 

"We're almost there," Nick says.

Monroe's not so far gone that he can't see that. As soon as the fight was over, Nick had called Rosalee and asked to meet her at the shop. He figures its better that they're not heading for a hospital, because explaining why a clock-maker was out in the woods with a cop breaking up an illegal bloodsport would be difficult. 

Fortunately, Rosalee won't ask any more questions than necessary. She's a good friend to have around, and they both know it.

The truck rolls to a stop in front of the shop; Nick hops out and runs around the truck, yanking the door open long before Monroe has figured out how to work the latch with a broken wrist and broken ribs.

"Just lean on me," Nick says, tugging Monroe's arm over his shoulders.

It's a sign of just how bad it is that Monroe doesn't argue. They shuffle to the door, and Nick's about to knock but the door swings open before he gets the chance.

"Oh my god!" Rosalee exclaims when she gets a good look at them. Nick's considerably better off than Monroe. He's going to have one helluva shiner tomorrow, but other than a few shallow cuts and a torn jacket, he came out of the fight mostly intact. "Get in here."

They push through the door, Nick on autopilot because they've done this dance before. He practically drags Monroe into the side room where Rosalee keeps all her supplies for when she's got to patch one or both of them back together. It should be shocking, how often that happens these days, but somehow it's not. Nick's getting better with the Grimm stuff, but it's still very much a work in progress.

"Over here," Rosalee says, pointing to the stool at the counter. 

Monroe sighs in relief when he's finally settled on the stool. Rosalee's potions taste like crap, but they take the pain away, and he can almost taste the relief. 

He glances at Nick, who's moved barely an inch from where he'd been standing as he'd lowered Monroe onto the stool. He's watching as Rosalee examines Monroe's wrist to much wincing and grumbling, and there's a strange expression on his face. His head is tilted to one side, and he's wearing something between a frown and a question.

"What?" Monroe asks.

Rosalee stops what she's doing, turning to look at Nick. "What is it, Nick?"

"I don't—" 

He reaches out for Monroe's wrist, wrapping his fingers around the damaged joint. The skin begins to warm under Nick's hand, the warmth penetrating clear through to bone and marrow. He expects to see his skin glowing, that's how much heat is radiating from him now, but there's nothing but a vague tingling.

He looks up at Nick, seeing the Grimm frowning in concentration. Finally, he releases Monroe's wrist, holding his hand out and just staring at it, like he's never seen it before.

"What did you do?" Rosalee asks, her voice hushed.

"I don't know," Nick answers, and it's clear by his tone that he has no idea.

Rosalee looks back at Monroe, who shrugs lightly, mindful of his ribs. "You got me."

"Move your wrist," she says.

Monroe looks at her like she's lost a few buttons, but does as she asked. He rotates his wrist, first clockwise, then counterclockwise. There's no restricted movement, and only a little soreness. It's as if the bone's been knitted back together. Rosalee takes his wrist and palpitates it, looking for the break.

Her head pops up. "It's not broken anymore."

"It's not?" Monroe asks. He moves it again, a look of wonder crossing his face. "It's not!" He turns to Nick. "How'd you do that? How'd you know you could?"

"I don't know," Nick says again. "It's just—I saw you in pain, and it was like there was something inside me drawing me towards that pain, begging to—I don't know, fix it?"

That last part is more a question, and its clear Nick doesn't have a clue why or even how it happened. Monroe looks to Rosalee, who's just as mystified as he is. "You ever hear anything like this?"

"Maybe," she says. He can see the speculation in her eyes. She turns to Nick. "Can you do it again?"

Nick takes a deep breath. "Yeah, I think so. He's not fully healed. I can still feel the pull."

"His ribs," she says. "Can you do his ribs?"

Nick nods, moving to stand between Monroe's legs. Monroe spreads his legs wider, leaning his elbow on the worktable beside him. Nick reaches out, laying both his hands over Monroe's side, just where the tear in his shirt reveals bloodied skin and the broken bones underneath. Again, he can feel the warmth spreading under his skin. The tingle is more pronounced this time, and between that and the heat, it's getting uncomfortable. But, just when he's getting ready to say something, Nick abruptly pulls back, stumbling backwards and collapsing onto the bed behind him.

"Are you okay?" Rosalee asks, rushing to his side. Her hands are passing over him, checking for injuries that aren't there.

Monroe takes a deep breath, waiting for the pain to bloom along his side, but it never comes. He runs his hand along his ribs, pressing into pristine skin to find his ribs tender but healed. By tomorrow he won't even be able to tell which ones were damaged.

He gets up and crosses to where Rosalee is sitting next to Nick, who's staring at both his hands now. There's a little blood smudging the skin, which Monroe vaguely registers as his own. He crouches down in front of the Grimm, watching the expressions chase across his face. Confusion mostly, and Monroe can't blame him. This wasn't in the travel brochures.

"Are you okay, man?" he asks into the silence.

"Yeah," Nick says, sounding surprised. He takes a deep breath and finally raises his eyes to his friend's. "What the hell just happened?"

Monroe huffs out a laugh. "I was hoping you could tell me. You didn't know you could do that, did you?"

"No," Nick says, shaking his head. He turns to Rosalee. "Do you know what just happened?"

"Maybe," she says, tipping her head. "Let me check something."

She gets up and crosses back into the shop, pulling an old, dusty volume off one of the highest shelves. She comes back into the room and settles back on the bed beside Nick. Monroe grabs the nearby chair and settles in, watching as Rosalee thumbs through the book, frowning as she scans the pages. Finally, she holds up a hand, her frown clearing into triumph.

"Just what I thought."

"And what, exactly, did you think?" Monroe asks when it becomes clear she's not going to elaborate.

She pokes her finger at one particular passage. "Do you remember the spell Adalind cast on your partner?"

Nick nods. It's not like any of them could forget that night.

"Remember how exposing her to your blood cast out the wesen?"

"Yeah. But what does that have to do with me seeming to be able to heal Monroe?" Nick asks, clearly still just as confused as he was.

"Well, I think what actually happened is that your blood identifies the wesen inside us as a sort of sickness or damage, and tries to heal it."

"So, that's why exposing Adalind to Nick's blood caused her to lose her wesen side?" Monroe asks. "It 'healed' her?"

Rosalee nods. "I think so."

"So, how does that explain how he was able to heal me?" Monroe asks. "I'm still wesen. I wasn't exposed to his blood like Adalind was."

"No, but I think his blood is reacting with the wesen in you," she says. "It's like his blood is heating up on contact with the damaged part of you. Somehow, that heat transmits the healing properties of his blood into you. If you were exposed to his actual blood, you might react the way Adalind did, but because he only touched you—no blood-to-skin contact—he was able to heal the physical damage to your flesh and bones without affecting your wesen side."

Monroe runs a hand over his ribs, still feeling a bit of residual heat. "Can all Grimms do that?"

"I would expect so," she says. "I think the reason most wesen don't know is because—"

"The Grimm have become killers instead of arbitrators," Nick fills in.

"But, if all Grimm can do it, why don't they?" Monroe asks. "What makes Nick different? Besides the obvious, I mean."

"His compassion," Rosalee says. "He said it himself: he was drawn to your pain, wanting to fix it. Maybe when the Grimm lost their compassion for the wesen, they stopped being able to heal them."

"Clearly not so much, because Nick just healed me," Monroe says, eyebrow raised.

"Maybe that ability was just being suppressed," Nick says, catching on. "Maybe the killer instinct suppresses the healing instinct. It would make sense, at least as far as any of this can make sense."

They all fall silent, the minutes ticking by as they absorb this new reality. Monroe actually thinks it might have been more convenient to have uncovered some secret _blutbad_ healing ability, because it's usually Nick in this position. Not that the baby Grimm isn't resilient, but he's only human and it takes a while for him to recover from injuries.

Still, as they'd found out tonight, when things got ugly, Nick would be a real asset. Of course, if word of this got out, it could spell trouble. Monroe could just imagine the line of wesen outside the precinct, waiting for him to heal them of everything from the sniffles to broken bones.

As if he were reading Monroe's mind—and who knew after tonight's revelation?—Nick spoke up. "Can we keep this between us? I don't want word to get out that I can do this. Juliette's suspicious enough; I don't need to add more ammunition."

"No problem, man," Monroe says. He's not eager to have every wesen in the city banging down his door, looking for him to put them in touch with the Grimm who can heal whatever ails them.

"Of course," Rosalee says. They share a look, one that says they both understand why, and know it's best for all of them that this never gets out. "Now, let's get those cuts cleaned up, and then I think you two could use a good night's sleep."

"I could—"

"No!" both Monroe and Rosalee say at the same time, startling Nick.

"It's better if we let the cuts heal on their own," Rosalee says, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. "They're not painful or life-threatening, so I don't think you need to exert yourself."

They have no idea what kind of toll this ability will take on Nick, so she's right to be cautious. That won't last with Nick, though. The guy is compassionate to the point of masochism. They'll just have to keep an eye on him.

It doesn't take long for Rosalee to clean and bandage what cuts are left, for both of them. She gives Monroe some herbs for the residual pain from his ribs and wrist, then sends them on their way with a promise to take it easy for at least a day. His ribs are still sore, so Monroe knows he won't have any trouble following that order. He has no intention of sitting at his workbench and suffering through clock repairs with sore ribs. His work can wait a day.

Nick, he knows, won't take the advice. He'll go in to work tomorrow and drag himself through the day. To be fair, he didn't get the crap beat out of him, but they don't know what's involved in the healing thing, so he may be more tired than usual. 

When they pull up outside Monroe's house, he turns to Nick and smiles. "Thanks. For the—"

Nick waves him off. "No thanks necessary. You know I hate seeing you in pain because of me."

Monroe's not even going to argue that one, because he knows he'll never win, whether it's true or not. "Still. Thanks."

"You're welcome, Monroe," Nick says. There's a faint blush on his cheeks, barely evident in the muted light from the streetlamps. He still can't believe that a Grimm has trouble accepting gratitude for what he does, but that's part of Nick's charm. "I'll call you tomorrow."

Again, Monroe's not going to argue. If it makes Nick feel better to check up on him, he'll allow it. It's a small price to pay for a little peace of mind for his friend.

He climbs out of the truck, closing the door and leaning through the window. "Take care of yourself."

"Yes, mother," Nick says, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. "Now go on."

Monroe doesn't respond to that; merely waves and heads up his front walk. His key slides into the lock easily—no clock-maker worth his toolbox would dare have a front door that doesn't work as smoothly as possible—and he swings the door open, turning to wave once more as Nick drives away.

It's been an adventure, knowing the Grimm. Of course, if things keep going the way they have been, Monroe's going to need that healing ability they discovered tonight. He winces at the thought, rubbing absently at his recently-healed ribs. 

Maybe not for a few days, though.

~Finis


End file.
